


Non compos mentis

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers (IDW)
Genre: M/M, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pharma survived his fall. Well, that is to say, his frame survived the fall, his processor is another matter. But Tarn isn't complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non compos mentis

**Author's Note:**

> Quick fill for [this](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12846080#t12846080) prompt on the LJ Transformers kinkmeme

“Oh, **very** nice.” I lift my helm to give him a grin.

Yes. Yes. Yes. Very nice. I laugh as I press a hand against the energon welling from beneath armour. Always nice. I raise my hand, licking the energon away, smirking at the deep thrum of engines from Tarn. He likes that. I make sure I do it a lot when he's around.

“Are you done here?” He rumbles and I put my hand back on my patient, smearing the energon across the frame, the lilac vibrant against the fading colours.

Am I done? Am I? I think I am. “I saved him.” I say, grinning at the energon seeping into my joints. I always save them. Always. Tarn brings them to me and I save them. They don't understand. So confused. I help them, let them know what's wrong. Show them the right way. And in the end I save them.

They're not the same once I've done that. All cold and grey. It's not the same without the screams. I like the screams. They make my frame heat. Charge burning through my circuits and I just have to make them scream more. It's never enough though. Never. They always leave me too soon. I have to save them you see. That's why he comes to watch. He knows I get hot. He always knows.

Hands catch on my wings, dragging me back and I laugh, twisting in his grip as he lifts my frame. For a moment I fear I am falling. Down, down to the ground. Then he murmurs something and I know I'm safe. He caught me. He'll always catch me.

\-------

Tarn smiles beneath his mask as he scoops his jet up, the smaller fingers leaving smudges of energon on his frame. Such a good find. He'd expected to have to extinguish him when they finally took Delphi. Then it had all changed and maybe he hadn't got the List member they were waiting for, but he had found his medic. Injured and all alone. The Autobots hadn't come looking for him.

At first he had been put in a cell and Tarn had been expecting the arrogant little jetling he had faced down each time he came to bargain for the survival of his pathetic little medical facility. Instead he'd got, well, something in his processor must have suffered a hard knock in his fall. Not that he was complaining. Oh no. Not when he got a medic who could take mechs apart as happily as he put them back together.

It hadn't taken much to twist what was left of his logic and morality subroutines into a mess. Even less to teach him some things no self respecting medic would ever enjoy. Oh yes. And of course, he got to enjoy the end result when he let his medic loose on the prisoners.

Just watching has never yet failed to get his circuits buzzing. And of course, his jet has no qualms about helping with that charge once he's finished administering his own brand of help to his 'patients'.

He dumps the jet on the berth, smiling at the indignant growl, not that it stops the medic from wrapping his legs as far around his waist as he can reach as soon as he clambers onto the berth. Tarn can feel the thrusters in his heels scraping along the plating on his back as the medics clawed fingers dig into the treads at his shoulder. He still can't help but laugh at the irony of using the hands from a warrior as a replacement for a medic. They were however the first ones which were the right size and not likely to be rejected by the jets systems, and besides, it's not like he needs to do any of the fine work at the moment.

“Eager tonight.” Tarn rumbles, chuckling at the way Pharma writhes beneath him, his fingers digging deeper as his electromagnetic field, normally so contained flares out of control at only the slightest use of his voice.

The medics turbines shift onto a higher note as he nods, his lips turning up into a grin. “Yesssss.” The sound is a hiss, soft and sibilant and full of promise. Tarn can't help the faint rattle of his own plating as his anticipation grows. “Take me.” Tarn smiles beneath his mask as the tell tale sound of panelling sliding aside reaches his audials. Who is he to resist such a request?

His own cover snaps back, releasing his spike and beneath him the medic squirms, hands scrabbling over his tires. “Taaaaaarn.” His name is drawn out into a static laden scream as he seats himself in the jets valve in one move, groaning at the feel of too tight calipers around is spike. It's a good thing his medic doesn't mind pain anymore.

“You like that don't you **Pharma**? The medic writhes as he lets a hint of his talent slip into his voice. “You want me to **frag** you till you're **screaming**?” Frantic nodding and clawed fingers tightening, little pin pricks of pleasure. He obliges as he his thrusts push the jet into the padding on the berth, only his fingers, holding tightly enough to leave dents in white hips are keeping him in place. “Perhaps we should start now, what do you think **Pharma**? Should you **overload**.” He growls as the valve constricts around his spike as the medic follows the urging of his voice, one of his hands clawing at his chest. “Such a **pretty** sight.” He croons, soothing his pets spark enough for him to return to being vaguely coherent.

Claws in his tracks dig deeper and blue optics relight, glowing in the low light. “You trying to be gentle?” Pharma asks with a smirk.

“Is this **better**?” Tarn asks with a chuckle as he sits up. His only answer is a whimper as the medics hands slip off his treads and relocate to his thighs, clawing furrows into the paint. “I'll assume that's a **yes** then.” Tarn hums, holding the jet on the edge as he uses his frame.

“I think you should **overload** again, **Pharma**.” He lets his voice resonate on the last word and his medic screams as charge flickers over his frame. The rippling valve around his spike is easily enough to push Tarn over the edge with a groan.

A garbled cry from the vicinity of the open door makes him smirk as he glances over. Vos gives him a dazed glare as he holds himself up on the doorframe as he shows how far his lessons in standard are coming. “Slagger.”

Pharma giggles as he lazily regards the intruder. “No. Fragger.”

Vos dutifully repeats that before backing out, “Ajark dra tira Kaon.” Tarn laughs, idly wondering if giving Kaon some warning would be worth it, watching Vos hunt him down is always amusing. Except he already has something to watch right here. Pharma's startled squeak as he rolls his hips and the rumble of his turbines are a sure sign he's up for a second round.


End file.
